The Truth of the Box Ghost
by Blue Teller
Summary: Truth had only one job - to help the souls of the dead to cross the Gate to the Other Side. This time, however, it seems Truth has bitten more than it can chew - even the Grim Reaper can hardly stand this one. And what in the name of the Ancients is Clockwork doing! The origins of the Box Ghost, humor, and lots and lots of boxes.


If there's anything anyone could say about the Time Master with certainty, that it was impossible to tell what was going on inside his mind.

Clockwork was an ancient being, existing since the very Beginning of Time. He had seen countless timelines and infinite numbers of different turns of events. It was safe to say he knew almost everything, although truthfully, he didn't know exactly _everything_. There were times when even he couldn't be certain which path time was going to take, and so, he had to take risks.

It was one of those times.

However, there was one quality which Clockwork possessed that few knew about, one that had been speculated on for ages. The Observants suspected it all along, but considering his position and foresight abilities, they were never able to prove it - much to their dismay. Clockwork knew that by doing this, he would endanger this secret... but honestly, he couldn't bring himself to care much.

A barely visible smirk appeared on the ghost's face as he turned to look at one of his portals, where an image of a small man in greenish-brown overalls and beanie appeared.

* * *

It was the usual busy day at the Post Office. Workers were running around, exchanging papers, wrapping packages, receiving mail to deliver. Among them, one man was specifically assigned to deal with cardboard boxes and bubble wrap. Other employees barely talked to him, avoiding him at all costs.

It's not that there was something wrong with him. Actually, he could be a really nice guy... sometimes. The problem was, he was... incredibly _irritating_. Just five minutes in his presence was enough to make the toughest of men beg for mercy, to be released from his annoying company.

He would have been okay to deal with, if he only _stopped talking_ for once in a while. But every opportunity he got, this guy went out of his way to talk to everyone about absolutely nothing for _hours_. Conversations with him were just so dreadfully boring, it was impossible to get invested. Having a mind as complex as an empty box, there was nothing interesting he could say about himself, so he talked about the only thing he could - boxes. And bubble wrap, occasionally.

Nobody ever bothered to find out his name - no one really cared - so they just called him "the Box Guy", or "the Guy who talks about Boxes".

Strangely enough, the Box Guy never complained about the nickname. He seemed even a little proud of it. Maybe because it meant other people were at least aware of his existence.

So, the Post Office was busy and running like any other day. The Box Guy got a whole tower of fresh cardboard to deal with.

"Alright, boxes!" the Box Guy said, rubbing his hands in glee. "Sweet! Did you know that every box is three-dimensional? Radical, ain't it?"

The worker who delivered the boxes shot him a strange look and slowly backed away.

"Let's see... what do we have here? Ten small ones, five medium, four large, two extra la-"

The Box Guy stopped in mid-sentence when something caught his attention. He gasped dramatically.

One of his favorite, extra large sized boxes, was _dented_! And not only that, the shape of the disgraceful dent was one of a big combat boot! This was a direct sabotage and a spit to the face of his work!

The Box Guy growled furiously. "What is this?! How dare they! Who did this to one of _my_ boxes?!" He stomped out of his room practically steaming in anger.

Meanwhile, there was quite the commotion going on outside.

"I can't believe you! This is the second truck you've managed to smash this week! Johnny, when the boss finds out, he's going to _kill_ you!" a woman named Helen said, looking at the busted truck with worry.

"You think I don't know what?!" Johnny screamed, pulling his hair out in distress. "Man, I'm ruined! He's going to fire me, I know it! And it wasn't even my fault!"

Helen patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "Hey, calm down... we know you didn't do this on purpose. It was just bad luck."

"Yeah, don't worry Johnny, maybe we can still save this!" another man spoke, climbing into the truck. "It's just one headlight... if we quickly switch it up maybe the boss won't notice!" There was a pause. "Uh... why are the cables all pulled out?"

Johnny sighed. "This is why I hate trucks. I knew I should have become a racer, not a postman."

Helen frowned in disapproval. "What did you do?"

"I was _trying_ to fix it, I swear! The crazy thing must be possessed or something! It suddenly drove on its own and BAM! It wasn't even working! I didn't do anything, you have to believe me!"

The woman crossed her arms. "Johnny, vehicles just don't come to live and crash on their own. There's no such thing as a possessed truck."

"I'm telling you Helen, it was-!"

"HEY, YOU!"

Their conversation was cut short when a short fat guy in overalls appeared before them, fuming.

"Oh, great, it's the Box Guy," Johnny scoffed. "What's _he_ doing outside his den?"

"Be nice," Helen reprimanded him quietly, despite inwardly cringing herself at the familiar sight. But he forced a smile as she turned to the Box Guy. "Hi, how can we...?"

"Which one of you damaged one of my extra large boxes?!" the Box Guy loudly demanded, glaring.

Johnny gulped. Helen narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Uh, she did it!" Johnny said quickly, pointing at the woman beside him. "I bet it was her!"

"WHAT?!" Helen yelped.

"So it was **you**!" the Box Guy yelled. "How dare you leave an imprint of one of your big male combat boots on one of my precious boxes!"

Johnny and Helen stared at him for a moment.

"Uh..." Johnny said awkwardly.

"...right," Helen looked something between amused and exasperated. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't me."

"If it wasn't you, then who?" the Box Guy asked, confused.

Johnny coughed. Helen glared at him.

"Well, let's see... Who wears big male combat boots to work, you know, except me?" she stated deliberately, pointing at Johnny feet.

The Box Guy looked at her finger, blinked, looked at Johnny's black boots, blinked again, then finally looked up at the young man's face. Then suddenly, a light-bulb seemed to appear above his head and he exclaimed:

"Ah-ha! Now I get it!"

"See!" said Helen triumphally.

"Yes! **You** know where the criminal went, don't you!"

Helen's smile faded. Johnny grinned, for once in his life feeling lucky. "Sure do! They went that way!"

"Thank you!" The Box Guy trotted away, waving his fist in the air. "I'm going to find you, you despicable box-offender!"

The relief of avoiding the vengeance of the Guy who talks about Boxes was short-lived, however, when Helen smacked him on the arm, hard.

"OUCH! What the heck was that for?"

"Why did you blame it on me, huh?! Did you really think I was going to cover for you? _Again_?"

"Heh, you just seem to handle these things better than me... OUCH! Quit it!"

"You shouldn't have kicked that guy's box, then! Why would you do that anyway?"

"I was just a bit angry, so I took it out on the box! It's not a big deal!"

"It is a big deal to _him_! Don't you know how much he cares about his boxes?"

"Care, more like _the only thing_ he ever thinks about! I bet his _brain_ is box-shaped!"

In their heated argument, they didn't notice that the truck started working.

"Guys! Hey, guys! I think I fixed- aaah!"

The truck suddenly drove backwards with a loud screech, causing the arguing pair and the venturing Box Guy all to stop and turn around.

"Wha-?"

Before anyone could react, the truck moved rapidly in the direction where the third person stood in a dumbfounded state.

"WATCH OUT!" Helen cried out, a second too late.

 ***CRASH!***

A moment later the truck stopped.

"Is everyone okay?" a voice came out and a head popped out of the window. "Did I hit something?"

Helen and Johnny said nothing, speechless. The guy exited the vehicle and walked around what happened.

"What's going...?" the man trailed off when he saw a pair of short legs underneath the truck. His eyes widened. "Oh, crud."

* * *

The Gate Keeper, also known as Truth, had an easy job compared to Clockwork. While Clockwork was responsible for the entire time-stream to run smoothly, Truth only had one role: to help the souls of the dead to move on to the afterlife. Simple, really. Just receiving the souls from the Reaper and guiding them through the Gate to the Other Side. It was the same thing over and over.

Occasionally, the soul arriving at the Gate was destined to become a ghost. Against popular belief, it wasn't the strength of a person's obsession that allowed them to cheat death in such way. They were many factors involved, one of them being Clockwork's approval. Every new Ghost entering the Ghost Zone was a big deal, after all - ghosts never aged so unless they were destroyed in some way, they would remain in the world forever, irrevocably altering the time-stream. Although Clockwork technically wasn't obligated to do so, he always warned Truth when a candidate for a ghost was about to show up at the Gate.

Truth represented the Universe itself, but wasn't omniscient - for example, it couldn't predict the future. On the other hand, the only thing limiting the Gate Keeper were Its own laws, while Clockwork was being the Observants' personal lapdog. Truth knew Clockwork's secret, however. And because of it, It didn't entirely trust the Time Master. Truth didn't hold any resentment toward him, but It knew It was going to do Its own thing, just like Clockwork.

In short, they had reached an understanding.

That's why what was about to happen was something Truth had never been prepared for.

" _Truth!_ Thank the Ancients, we're here!" the Reaper exclaimed upon seeing the familiar faceless white Figure.

Truth would have raised an eyebrow, if it had one. " **Hello, Reaper. You seem distressed,** " It spoke in Its eerie multi-voice.

"Yes, just take him already, please! If I hear one more 'B'-word, I swear I'm going to give up my afterlife!" ...Most peculiar reasoning to end one's existence, but Truth didn't question it. It was tempted to test if the old ghost really was willing to make such exchange... That would be most amusing. Because frankly, Truth wasn't very fond of him.

The Reaper moved his dark cloak and revealed a man in overalls wearing a beanie.

"...and that's why cardboard is superior to plastic in every way! Radical, eh?"

"He's all yours now! I don't want to have anything to do with him!" the Reaper yelped comically and flew away with the speed of light. It was an enjoyable sight, if Truth were to be honest. It had never seen a mortal being leaving such an impact on the Grim Reaper before. It was curious if this would turn out to be a long-lasting effect...

Truth snapped out of Its reverie when It realized the soul never stopped talking.

"...imprint of the boot was _right on the box_! Can you believe it!? Then I thought, why would anyone-"

" **Hello,** " Truth interrupted, causing the soul to look at It for the first time. The soul seemed confused, a normal reaction considering that Truth always mimicked the shape of the person standing in front of it. It was one of the many things the Gate Keeper and Clockwork had in common - they didn't posses a consistent form.

"Huh?" the soul blinked twice, apparently surprised to have been interrupted. "Who are you?"

" **Oh, I'm so glad you asked,** " Truth's featureless face grinned widely. " **I am known by many names. I am the Universe. I am Truth. I am nothing and everything. I am All, and I am One.** " It pointed to the soul and stated solemnly: " **Which means that _I am you_.** "

The soul stood silently for a short moment, thinking. "You are... everything?"

" **Yes,** " Truth responded with superiory.

The soul squinted in concentration, as if trying very hard to figure something out.

"You mean... you're also... a box?"

Truth paused, staring incredulously at the soul.

" **Uh... what?** " It couldn't help but ask in stupor.

"This is so great!" the soul said happily. "I've never seen a _talking box_ before! And I've seen plenty of boxes, he he!" The soul waved enthusiastically. "Hello, box, nice to meet you! They call me the Box Guy, you know! I know a lot about boxes! What size are you?"

Truth started to wonder if this soul was for real.

Upon realization that It was **everything** , of all possible things... the soul decided to call It **a box**.

Thank goodness the Reaper wasn't here. Truth would never live it down. He would mock It for the rest of his afterlife.

...The fact that both of them were immortal didn't help the matter.

"Wait! You said 'you were me', right? That means you're me-sized! And I'm the size of an extra large box! So you're an extra large box too!" the Box Guy continued, unabashed that Truth was yet to respond at all. "That's my favorite size! You know why? Because in an extra large box, you can fit more boxes! Radical, am I right?"

" **...right...** " Truth didn't even know why it was agreeing with the soul. " **So, are you aware of your situation... Box Guy?** " It decided to just go with it. There was no reasoning with this crazy soul.

"Of course I do!" the Box Guy replied firmly. "I'm inside a big white storage room with no boxes in it and I don't like it! What kind of magazine doesn't have boxes? When are they going to deliver?"

" **There won't be any boxes delivered here...** " Truth started carefully. " **However, I know a place where there will be boxes, all the boxes you could possibly want.** " When reasoning fails, bribery will do. A cheap tactic, perhaps, but Truth wasn't lying. If it was truly the soul's desire to find more boxes, it would do so in its afterlife. All Truth needed to do was to convince the Box Guy to cross the right Gate and Its job would be done.

"Oooh, really? Where?"

" **Just follow me.** "

Truth lead the way, mentally blocking out the soul's constant blabbering about boxes.

After what seemed like ages (which in reality was barely two minutes), Truth and the Box Guy arrived where a large, dark-grey object was seemingly floating in the air. It was devoid of any symbols - the Door to the Other Side.

" **Here were are... the Gate,** " Truth spoke and waited.

And waited.

And waited...?

Truth stared at the Gate in disbelief. It wasn't opening.

 _It wasn't opening._

For the first time in a millenium, Truth was seriously freaked out.

This had never happened before. _Ever_. The Gate always responded to Truth calling its name. It was supposed to open and let the soul take its rightful place on the Other Side, whatever that would be... but nothing was happening.

Truth glanced at the Box Guy, glad the soul couldn't see Its expression.

What was It supposed to do now?!

"Uh, box? Why isn't the door thing opening? Are we waiting for something?" the Box Guy asked, perplexed.

Truth searched desperately for an answer. Why wasn't the Gate opening?

Could it be... Perhaps the soul's time hadn't come yet? Maybe the Reaper made a mistake and he took a soul that still had a purpose to fulfill in the Human Realm?

Truth gritted Its teeth in frustration. It was going to kill Reaper for this.

" **The Time hasn't come yet,** " It finally replied, carefully wording the answer. " **So we must wait.** "

Yes, wait for the Reaper to return so Truth can cut all of his limbs off with that scythe of his. And It was going to start with taking his right arm.

"Oh." The Box Guy scratched behind his ear. "Hey, you wanna hear a box joke?"

Truth looked at the soul in disbelief. This couldn't possibly be a serious question.

"Okay, listen to this: why was the box lonely?"

...or not.

"Because it was feeling empty on the inside! Hahaha, you get it?"

The only response Truth gave was a face-palm.

"Okay, here's another one... Why did the box cross the road?"

* * *

 _Three Hours Later..._

* * *

Truth never thought it would sympathize with the Reaper of all ghosts. But considering it took him a full week to guide a soul to the Gate of Truth, It could now understand the state the Reaper was in when he had arrived.

This... this creature was impossible. It had been talking for three hours non-stop, and all it spoke about were box jokes! And not a single one of them was funny, even by mortal standards!

"Alright, you gotta love this one, box! It's a classic! Why would a box be in a hurry to leave?"

' _To get far away from you?_ ' Truth wondered, but didn't speak out loud.

"Because it's running on a _packed_ schedule! Bhuahahaha! Oh, this one always gets me!"

Truth was pretty certain the Box Guy made that one up, as well as the bazillion other jokes he'd told so far.

"Radical, ain't it? Here's another... wait. What is _that_?"

It took Truth a moment to realize that the soul actually asked a question.

" **What?** "

"That other door thingy! Was it there before?"

Truth turned where the Box Guy was pointing. If It had eyes, they would have flew out of their sockets.

There was, indeed, another Gate floating in the air. It was different from the Door to the Other Side - for one thing, it wasn't bare. It had markings on it, written in ancient language.

 _Capsa. Cista. Theca. Arca. Chiloma._

There were also pictures, most of which were... boxes. Lots and lots of boxes.

The Box Guy stepped forward, mesmerized.

"It's so beautiful..." he said dreamily. "Where does it go?"

Oh, Truth knew where _that_ Gate lead to. What It didn't understand was _how_ it was there, and _why for the all things sacred in the Ghost Zone hadn't it appeared before?!_

" **You are not supposed to enter this Gate,** " Truth told the soul in a stern tone, although it was at loss if that was the case here. The Box Guy didn't seem like to be the right candidate... but then, why would the Gate be there?

"Why not? It has boxes on it." The Box Guy gasped suddenly. "It's a storage room! I gotta check it out!"

The soul started to pull the door with determination.

" **Wait...!** " Truth stood up and walked up to the soul. " **You must think about this carefully, Box Guy. This is a point of no return. If you pass this Gate, you will return to the real world, and you will be forced to exist as a ghost... for eternity.** "

"Huh?" The Box Guy actually paused and looked at Truth in curiosity. "A ghost? You mean, I'm like, dead?"

Truth threw Its arms up in frustration. " **Yes, you are! I'm the Universe, the Truth, the Everything! You do not see those things _unless are dead!_** "

"Wow, I didn't know that! You mean I would be like, a Box Ghost?"

Truth groaned loudly.

" **Whatever! You know what? I don't care! You want to go through that Gate?! Fine, then go! Just stop bothering me!** "

The Gate of Boxes(?) opened widely as soon as the Truth stopped talking. The Box Guy cheerfully hopped into it.

"Yippie!"

The Gate closed with a loud bang, then disappeared without a trace.

Truth sighed with relief. Finally.

Then, It was hit with the realization of what It had just allowed.

 _"I am the Ghost Box! The master of all things cardboard and square! Beware my bubble wrap of doooom!"_

If It wasn't white all along, Truth would have paled at the horrifying vision. It had released a monster into the world. And without the Time Master's permission.

As soon as the thought crossed Truth's mind, another realization slammed him like a door in the face.

Clockwork... he must have known! But then, why...?

When it finally understood, Truth changed Its mind. The Reaper wasn't the one who It was going to rip limbs off.

" _ **CLOOOOOOOCKWOOOOOOORK!**_ "

* * *

Far away in the Ghost Zone, Clockwork grinned, listening to Truth's raging.

Ah, being the Master of Time sure was useful at times like these. Freezing the Gate of Truth in time was something he'd never done before, but it was quite easy. He couldn't believe Truth didn't figure it out right from the start.

Changing form from an old ghost to a child, the ghost laughed softly. He might not show his emotions often, but sometimes even he couldn't help himself. This was the most fun he had in five hundred years.

Clockwork had a secret. He was always careful not to get caught by his employers. The Observants suspected it, but they couldn't prove it. Once again, they failed to see the obvious.

The Time Master was a masterful troll.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **The strangest cross-over I've ever written... yet. I don't know where the idea came from. Maybe I just wanted to write something with Truth and Clockwork. Maybe it was the idea that the Box Ghost was called the Box Guy when he was alive... I just needed a break. This seemed like a perfect idea.**

 ** _Capsa. Cista. Theca. Arca. Chiloma._ They all mean 'box' in Latin. xD**

 **I know you're all wondering about the updates for my other stories. Don't worry, they're coming :) I hope you enjoyed this little story in spite of waiting.**

 **Thank you for reading, please review & favorite, if you can, but most importantly - read on and enjoy! ;)**


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